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The Cheaters Cheated

Introduction

This Jig, by London’s leading pageant poet Thomas Jordan (c1614–1685), is printed in his Royal Arbor of Loyal Poesie (1664) and was given at London’s Mansion House to ‘the Sheriffs of London’. We don’t know the date of performance but it probably did not long precede the date of publication since Jordan’s activities for the city (as Poet Laureate) began with the fall of the Commonwealth. Wat’s words are printed in a comic West Country accent: ‘z’ instead of ‘s’, ‘v’ for ‘f’, ‘ch’ for ‘I’ etc. No tune titles are given.

Synopsis Nim and Filch complain about hard times and are delighted to come across Wat, newly arrived in town. Distracting him with a glass prism, they pick his pockets but find nothing of value (he has wisely sewn his cash inside his shirt). Moll flirts with Wat and while they dance she tricks him into taking her basket and then disappears. Shocked to find it contains a baby, and keen to palm it off on the thieves, Wat puts the baby into a trunk and, knowing the thieves are listening, boasts it contains fine clothes. As he anticipates, the thieves pounce and steal the trunk. They fight over it, the baby is revealed and Moll declares Filch is the father. All three vow to turn over a new leaf. Wat has indeed cheated the cheaters.

Recordings

An unusual and delightfully bawdy offering from the irrepressible Lucie Skeaping and her collaborators The City Waites. Today we think of a jig as simply a dance, but in late sixteenth- and early seventeenthcentury England the word was used to des ...» More

Details

Part 01: The Friar and the Nun
Good morrow fellow Filcher (Nim/Filcher)

Nim: Good morrow fellow Filcher, What, do we sink or swim? Thou look’st so like a Pilcher—Filch: Good morrow fellow Nim, The Devil’s in our destiny, I cannot get a pluckNim: No, surely if the Devil were in’t We should have better luck.

Filch: What Star is my director, I am in such a state?Nim: Nay prethe brother Hector Do not fall out with fate; For we are Fortune’s minions And fight under her banner, ’Tis she is queen of all the worldFilch: A mischief light upon her.

Filch: No money is reveal’d yet I wonder where it lingers?Nim: The souldier hath conceal’d it Tis fast in iron fingers From whence, if we could get it By fury or by fraud, We had as good attempt to pick The pocket of a baud. [thieves’ cant for ‘magistrate’]

Filch: Your roaring cavalier Who, when he had the chink, Would bravely domineer In dicing, drabs and drink, Go ask him now for money And he hath none at all But cries: ’Tis in my Compting House In Haberdashers Hall! [a financial centre during Civil War]

Nim: Our sly trappanning [conning, trickery] trade Maintain’d with so much fury Is openly bewray’d Both by the judge and jury For lawyers have so many quirks And are such curious skanners [scrutinisers] That they grow cunninger than we And do trappan trappanners.

Filch: Our dyceing trade is down too, For when we do begin By drilling wayes, to draw A yonger brother in, The souldier falls upon us And proves the best projector [money-making schemer]Nim: Faith, every Red-coat now can make A puppy of a Hector.

They spy Wat

Filch: Stay, prethee who comes here?Nim: A gaping Country Clown.Filch: Look how the slave doth stare;Nim: He’s newly come to townFilch: He gazeth in the air as if The sky was full of rockets Let’s fleece him. Nim: But how shall we get His hands out of his pockets?

Filch: Let me alone for that: I lately bought a glass, [cut glass prism, sold as a curiosity at fairs] Wherein all several colours may Be seen that ever was, If held up thus with both hands.Nim: A pretty new design, This trick will fetch his fingers out—Filch: And hey, then in go mine!

Part 02: Upon a Summers Day – Kemp's Jig
Our Taunton den is a dungeon (Wat)

Wat: Our Taunton den [Dene] is a dungeon And yvaith, cham glad cham here, This vamous zitty of Lungeon [London] Is worth all Zomerzet-zhere In wagons, in carts and in coaches Che never did yet zee more horse, The wenches do zhine like roches And as proud as my father’s vore horse

Che never zince che was able To keep my vather’s voulds [folds: field enclosures], Did ever zee such a stable As such [‘thick’ in Jordan’s original, i.e. ‘the like’] a thing called Powls [St Paul’s Cathedral] A mezle [soldier] in a red jacket Had like to have knack me down Because che’d undertake it Held all the beast in town. [He mistakes St Paul’s for a large stable]

Ch’am come to zee my Lord Major And such as do hang the thieves Ch’ve forgot what vine names they are A meazle on them, the Zhreeves [Sheriffs, a reference to the audience] They zay they wear chains and scarlets And vollow’d by many guardiants Ch’ave lost the neams of the varlets A mischief on them the Serjeants

And now chill walk my stations To every place in town Che mean to buy new vashons Iche have above fifty pound; Che took’t away from vather When he was gone a-vield Cham come away the rather ’Cause ch’ave got a wench with childe.

Part 03: The Friar and the Nun
The rainbow never knew (Filcher/Nim/Wat)

Filch: The rainbow never knew Such colours as are hereNim: Here’s purple, green and blew—Wat: Zooks, what have they got there? Good morrow Master, what d’ye cal’t?Filch: Good morrow, good man Clot!Wat: Nay vaith, vine gallant, there y’are out— My neame is honest Wat.

Filch: I’le shew thee such a sight that Thou ne’re saw’st, honest Wat, Neither by day nor night yet.Wat: Yvaith ch’ud laugh at that!Filch: Here, take this glass into thy hand And hold it to thy eyes, Thou there shalt see more colours than A dyer can devise.

Wat: I cannot zee a colour yet,Nim: Thou dost not hold it high,Wat: Che hav’t, che hav’t, che’ve got it now!Nim: (steals Wat’s purse) I’faith, and so have I! Wat: Here’s black and blew & gray & green, And orange-tauny, white; And now ich ave lost all again …Filch: (steals Wat’s other purse) In troth y’are in the right!

Now prethe tell me, honest Wat How do’st thou like my glass?Wat: It is the vittest veat, yvaith, That e’re was brought to pass And if that thou wilt spare it Chill give thee money down.Filch: I will have nothing for itWat: Chill give thee half-a-crown

Yvaith, cham very willing …Nim: You shall not do it now—Wat: To give to thee vour zhilling …Filch: ’Tis more than you can do! Nim: Farewell good Wat, thou shalt not payWat: Good morrow Gentlemen; Chill get me gone vor vear that they Zhould get my glass agen! Wat exit

Filch: Quick let us share For fear of apprehension.Nim: Gusman [famous Spanish rogue, popularized in England by James Mabbe] could ne’re Compare with this invention.Filch: That rustick clown Hath brough a happy harvestNim: Lay your money down, Filch: My purse is at your service crown for crown.

Nim: Open the purse, Our ship of fortune sails in’t … (opens purse)Filch: O heavy curse— It hath nothing but nails in’t!Nim: Ne’re men till now Were gull’d by such a costard [empty headed—from costard apple]Filch: If we meet I vow wee’l bang The bacon bastard black and blew.

Unlock that font, Let’s enter by degrees in’t (opens other purse)Nim: A pox upon’t— There’s nought but bread and cheese in’t!Filch: Come, let’s depart And drink a Saxon RumkinNim: I am vext at heart But if I spare the Bomkin, hang me for’t. They exit

Part 05: The Carman's Whistle
Soldiers fight and Hectors rant on (Moll Medlar)

Mol: Soldiers fight and Hectors rant on Whilst poor wenches go to rack Who would be a wicked wanton Onley for suppers, songs and sack? To endure the alteration Of these times that are so dead, Thus to lead a long vacation Without money, beer and bread.

Farewell Bloomsbury and Sodom, Lukeners Lane and Turnbull Street [well-known London hangouts for whores] Woe was me when I first trod ’em With my wilde unwary feet. I was born a Gentlewoman, But our family did fall When the gentry’s coin grew common, And the souldiers shar’d it all.

I was sure unto a Hector Who hath basely broke his vow; Would I had a good projector That would well support me now. Enter Wat Who comes here? What simple Thumkin, Oh! I guess him by his coat, This is sure some Countrey Bumkin Now ’tis time to change my note.

Part 06: Stingo – Half Hanekin
I can dance and I can sing (Moll Medlar/Wat)

Moll: I can dance and I can sing, And I am good at either, And I can do the tother thing When we get together. I have lately lost my dear, ’Twas a holy Brother If he do not meet me here, I faith, I’le get another.

I can nimbly come above, I can tumble under And if I do but like my love …Wat: What vary’s [‘fairy’/prostitute] that is yonder? ’Tis a dainty dancing girle, Zhee would make me gladder, Her vace doth zyne like mother-of-pearl, Chould chuse no more, and chad [catch, as in ‘chadder’, a fisherman] her.

Moll: A Dutchman loves his pipe and can, A Jew doth like a Turk well, But I could hug a Countrey-man, For he will do his work well Citizens are full of slight, They will cog and flatter, But a Countrey man will do me right—Wat: Che long now to be at her!

Prithe zay, and ben’t avrayd, Art thou not a pedlar?Moll: I live close by in Tickle Yard, My name is Mary Medlar [whore, from anus-shaped fruit, best when rotten].Wat: Then, zweet Mol, come buss [kiss] thy Wat Let us twain be merry,Moll: I could nimbly dance, but that My basket makes me weary.

Wat: Give it me, chill dance a Spring Che have no veaver lurden [laziness: Henry VIII’s physician wrote of the ‘Fever Lurden which doth comber yonge persons’]Moll: If thou wilt dance, then I will sing And thou shalt bear the burden. He takes her basket. Both dance Wat: A match, a match, it’s well a vine, We both zhall make some ztuff on’t!Moll: Unless thy feet keep pace with mine Thoul’t quickly have ynough on’t!

Wat: Well don Moll, Moll: ’tis well done Wat,Wat: Chill do it to a tittle,Moll: But I have too much strain’d my throat, I prethe sing a little Wat: Fa la la la liera lo! This is pretty prancing! We will go to Tickle Yard When we have done dancing—

Moll dances off

Now che think ch’av vetcht it up, [Wat is evidently ready for action!] Zing a little Mary, We will gulge a merry zup Zhuggar and canary [strong wine from Canary Isles]; But thou dost dance and make no noise, Zhall I turn and kiss thee? Prethe let me hear thy voice … Where the devil is she?

Zhe hath left me all alone Here to mum and mask it, But, yvaith, if zhe be gon, Ich chill keep her basket. Here’s good vortune come to me In a merry minute, Now chill puttne down and zee What zhee have gotten in it.

He opens the basket, revealing the baby

Part 07: The Gelding of the Devil
Oh wo, wo, wo, what zhall chee do? (Wat/Baby)

Wat: Oh wo, wo, wo, what zhall chee do? Che con no know which way to go, With such whore here, and her vyne zong, Che have a bore her burden too long; Che may curse the occasion that e’re che came here, Would che were agen in Zomerzet-zhere.

He pulls the baby out of the basket

O Lungeon ich cham undone, Ch’ave a brungeon a daughter or zon, Such a jewel hath me beguil’d, Water Gruel must now veed the childe, Ich chud never be zorry, but vind it a place If che had now but good store of larzhant [money] It looks Tory [reference to the fierce paramilitaries in Cromwell’s Ireland] rory and zmells zo of mace, That I’m zure it was got by zome zarzhant.

He carries the baby to the audience

Goodman zhreeve [sheriff], ze, look on the vace, Vor I believe it may be your own case, Honest vree men ich cham basely begeld Goodly woman hold but the cheld, Chil but step here hard by, ’tis but home to Taunden And chill bring ye zom gold in a casket … Since all are hard-hearted both women and men Che must march with my youth in a basket. Wat exit

Filch, Nim: We shall ne’re have lucky minuit, None of our designs will hit, Some ill planet sure is in it, Fortune makes a fool of wit: All our cheats are simple cheats And destiny will have it so. There’s nothing hits but with those wits That cheat Cum Privilegio The holy drum and godly gun Are now the onley engines that Make pimp and whore and Hector poor And wise men do they know not what.

Filch: All our joyful days do leave usNim: Never were such times as these,Filch: Every Bumkin can deceive usNim: With hobnails, Filch: and with bread and cheese Though we mist it, he confest it That he brought up fifty pound,Nim: Where he hid it, how he did it Is the plot that may be found.Filch: If we meet him we will fit himNim: Hark, I hear one coming in … Very pleasant, ’tis the peasant,Filch: Now let’s to our guards agen. They hide and watch

What would ye do to a poor countrey man?Nim: First lay down your trunk, you shall know more anon Wat: And very vine way to have my trunk gone;Filch: Do so or I’le knock thee down!

Wat: Nay vaith, good Gentleman, since ch’have zeen it, Chill lay it down there, and if ye can win it, Thou zhalt have my trunk and all that is in it, ’Twill cost above vorty pound.

Filch: (draws sword) I’l have as much blood as thy heart can afford!Wat: Thou cowardly knave, wilt thou vight with a zword? But since ’tis but one, ich care not a twoord [turd]Nim: (appears with sword) And what do you think of another!

This rapier I thorow thy body will runWat: Ud zooks! there’s no vighting with two agen one, Ich che rather will trust to my legs and be gon. Wat runs offFilch: Why now gramercy brother!

Nim: The rascal already is run out of sight,Filch: His hands are vile heavy, Nim: His legs are as light, The plush for a jacket I claim as my rightFilch: Which really I deny.

For was it not I that prov’d the projectorNim: But if this good sword had not been your protector The clown would have made you a pittiful Hector And beaten you, Filch: Sirra, ye lye!

My force hath been try’d against castles and towers The prize, as it lies, is equally ours! Let victory make it out mine or yoursNim: I grant it with all my heart.

They fight over the trunk. Enter Moll

Moll: What mad men are these! Pray what do you mean? I never did see such a sorrowful scene! Nay, sweet Mr Filcher— Filch: Stand further ye quean! [impudent hussy] I’le make the proud rascal smart.

Moll: You alwayes were friends, what makes ye fall out? Pray tell me, what is the quarrel about?Nim: This duel will suddenly end all the doubt:Moll: I’le suffer between your swords.

You know that the law against duels is high,Nim: That rodomontado [boaster] there, gave me the lye!Moll: Pray do but consider that Tyburn is nigh— Nim: That very word cools my wrath.

For my own part I onley would live by my trade,Filch: The bargain betwixt us must end by the blade!Moll: Pray let me but know the conditions ye made I’le judge it between ye both.

Filch: I’le tell you then, how the quarrel did rise This fellow and I have took a rich prize,Nim: And now he denies me my share in’t— Filch: He lies! We agreed that the sword should decide it.

This trunk is well furnished as e’re it can hold, With silk and with velvet, with silver and goldMoll: Turn’t all into money, and when it is sold, You equally may divide it.

But first, what assurance have you, when you win it, ’Tis worth all this danger? Nim: We yet have not seen it;Moll: Why then, let us open’t and see what is in it, That ev’ry thing may be shown.

Nim: A match! Let her break the trunk open and see,Moll: It may be by this means you’l sooner agree,Filch: Faith, open or shut, it’s all one to me, I vow I’le have all or none.

Moll opens the trunk and takes out the baby

Moll: Then look to your bargain, you both are beguil’d! Pray tell me if this be the velvet three pil’d? Is this figur’d satin? Nim: I vow ’tis a child! You swore you’d have all or none!

Filch: I’le stand to my bargain, for I will have none!Nim: What, can you so suddenly alter your tone?Moll: Come kiss it and love it, for, Filch, ’tis your own— Remember when we were alone.

For this pretty babe I have shed many showers, And suffer’d a thousand disconsolate hours, As sure as ’tis mine, I’m certain ’tis yours, I never knew man but you.

Filch: These projects, to me, are riddles and charms, How came the child hither? Moll: For fear of worse harms, I left it just now in a countrey-man’s arms, A fellow that I never knew.

’Twas left to be lost, though the plot would not hit, I never could see you to tell you of it, A countrey-man bought it [‘brought’ in Jordan’s original]. Filch: A pox of his wit! I would I were rid of my life!

Moll: Before I knew Filcher I was a pure maid, Pray do but remember the contract we made, You said you would wed me, and live by your trade,Filch: I’le presently make thee my wife.

Moll: For all the world’s wealth I will ne’re be a whore,Filch: I’le purchase new credit upon an old score.Nim: I’le deal in these damnable courses no more,All: We everyone will mend.

Filch: I never will quarrel or swagger and roar,Nim: Then make the poor simpletons pay all the score,Moll: I never will do as I have done before,All: We every one will mend. Exeunt

Wat: Ch’ave overcome my voes, And Watty now is vree, It is no zin to couzen [cheat] those, That would have cheated me! Had che but met with one, Che had not been o’remaster’d— Ich che wonder what they thought upon, When they did vind the bastard!

Ich che cannot chuse but zmile, That men who can talk Lattin, Zhould be zuch fools to take a child Vor velvet, zilk and zatten! But pride will have a vall, The proverb zaith as much … Now, how do you, my Measters all, Ich cham come to laugh a touch!

All: God bless my Lady Zhreeve And all that noble pack, Ch’am almost dead with grief Che want a cup of zack. God zave my Master too, And zend him to live long, Vayth, now ch’a nothing else to do, Chill zing a merry zong.